


Domesticated

by edgelordjonesthethird



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, FP just doesn't want to hear his son get off, Father/Son, Roommates, probably technically between 2x16 and 2x17, what we were robbed of in 2x17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 17:24:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14140872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edgelordjonesthethird/pseuds/edgelordjonesthethird
Summary: Summary: The trailer was feeling awfully small





	Domesticated

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something we were robbed of from Bughead living together. Based off my imagine “I am just having visions of Jughead and FP fighting for blankets. And also Jughead trying to sneak into bed with Betty, and tripping over the foot off the pullout couch and FP being like. “Get back into bed, boy!”

 

FP Jones was never going to win any father of the year awards for his past performance and he knew it; whether it was the alcoholism that sent his wife and daughter heading for the hills, and his son into choosing homelessness over him. Sure, there were times that FP remembered, happy times with his wife and children; sneaking into the drive-in, birthday parties (Jughead would find that debatable), but he knew there were good memories. However, there were also the horrendous, fun nights at the White Wyrm which lead to nights at home with his family he didn’t remember which usually lead to mornings with broken glass and his son sporting a black eye on more than one occasion. FP Jones would spend the rest of his life attempting to make up for that; his son who never left his side through a murder charge, put his life in jeopardy to spring him, and of course the girl who helped him.  

                Jughead and Betty Cooper were forever in debt; he would do anything for them at this point, that included housing Betty to get away from her homicidal brother. FP wasn’t quite sure about the details that led to him disposing another body, but he knew it was enough to drive Betty comfort Northside suburbia to their tin can on the Southside. He also knew from his history with the Cooper women that included giving up the comfort of his bedroom and keeping a close eye on his son; FP knew he would never be forgive if the “Cooper woman curse” struck again, the last thing he needed was to be a grandfather. His son couldn’t remember if he wore gloves to a coverup, how could he possibly be trusted to remember if he used protection properly? Precautions needed to be taken; such precautions as sharing the pullout couch with his teenage son.

                All the awkward scenarios that could happen ran through his head, his son was sixteen after all. There was always the case of the lingering sex dream, everybody had them, but teenage guys were notorious for keeping not being able to deal with that inconspicuously; not that sharing a bed with your father was the sexiest thing in the world, but he remembered being that age and how the wind would blow wrong and things would stir. Thankfully, nothing that repugnant had occurred, the only troubles that seemed to occur were that of his son hogging the blanket if he didn’t curl up at a reasonable time which was usually the case, he would return late from the Wyrm would be cocooned under the comforter, snoring like a chainsaw; it was a tug of war almost every night, that and the bar of the bed digging into his back FP wasn’t the most rested these past few days. The older Jones learned a long time ago, though, usually if there was too much bliss something was obviously up.

                That happened one night, FP found himself in a pleasant rest no bar in his back, no tug of war; he was comfortable, _too_ comfortable. He didn’t want to question it, he didn’t want to open his eyes and see what chaos was about to ensue; that was until he felt something hit the foot of the bed, and low grumble which caused FP’s eyes to fly open

                “Son of a bitch!” Jughead hissed, massaging his bare shin; his raven hair strewn everywhere and his eyebrows knitted in pain.

                “Boy!” FP whispered, careful not to wake the Cooper girl. “What the hell are you doing?”

                                “I-just-just.” Jughead stammered; he was uncharacteristically at a lack of words.

                Then FP saw it, through the corner of his eye; long legs and a mass of blonde waves scrambled back into the bedroom. Suddenly he knew what was up, for he had been a teenager once, and far more promiscuous than his son who settled the right person. Though, his son was far less sexual than he had been, and much smarter in most cases, just not this. He surely wasn’t thinking with the brain in his head.

                “Get the hell back in bed, boy!” FP snapped, he had enough; teenagers invading his home were one thing, but the wrath of Alice Cooper was not something he wanted to deal with. “Jesus Christ, kid, are you trying to get me killed ?”

                Jughead slipped back into bed next to his father, crossing his arms and staring up at the ceiling. “I was just going to go sleep in there, Dad, that’s it,” the boy sighed.

                “And I am the motherfucking Pope,” FP grunted and turned on his side, he just wanted this conversation to be over; he had an early shift at Pops he had to get through. “And if I catch you sneaking into that room again I am going to tie you to the bed, and not in the fun way Betty probably does it.”

                Perhaps he had gone too far with that sentiment, but he didn’t feel his son rise from the bed for the rest of the evening.      


End file.
